You know, he says, some things just really don't make any sense. Period. The end. NO sense whatsoever, utterly meaningless, horribly senseless. That's that! You don't always have to look for meaning in everything and all that. Sometimes, booom, it's just meaningless. And wrong in a way. You know? You don't have any idea how many things I fucked up. Gosh. I let so many doors and windows open and close and just let them go when I should have jumped right in. But I didn't. And you know, in a weird way, that's when there is freedom. You are there, in this place that you don't belong and weren't meant to be at, and there is freedom in that.
At what a price, Dad, I say and breathe a layer of ice right off my heart into Kachemak Bay. The glaciers lick the mountains across the water as if they were gigantic ice tongues and I feel a chilly breeze. The alders, the blue jays, the horses, the trees.
Pushki, Devils Club and wild roses.
Wild rasperries. Wild berries I don't the name of. Wild, wild clouds over wild wild land.
If you messed up twice, you will be all the more concentrated and ready when it comes around a third time, he says, and it always does. It always comes around again.
I hope you feel little, meaningless and small. It is good to know that. Screw the rich and the famous.
He never wanted that. Richness, fame. My mom more so than him, but she grew up on beautiful land and knows what it means to work it.
But i understand him more and more. Wealth, fame, property. I don't want that either. Money is good for food, to pay bills. And that's why you work.
work is beautiful he says. Woe those who don't have to work. There are only a few who can manage. It is what makes us human too.
When I told him about the surrogate mother, the c-section and all that he had to go for a walk. Just doesn't feel ready for this kind of world yet. I am right in it. Every day. Not for long though. Not for long.
As I get up and try to shake off the stress, the city, the airplane, the frustration at home and at work I look in the sky. I feel good. I know why.
2 comments:
All work is beautiful despite how menial. All loss is tragedy despite how meaningless. All tragedy is beauty.
finally you updated in here. I knew it! Now it was time! And there's the time you have to just rest and sit in the bathtub next to imaginary wild berries.
Love you
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